Unseen Bracers, Unseen Ties
by Ornamental Nonsense
Summary: Orvas Dren couldn't believe that his own slave would attempt to hide his moon sugar from him. They had known each other their whole lives, but still, he was her master, and she was his slave. There were rules to this game, but those eyes of hers...


Unseen Bracers, Unseen Ties

By Ornamental Nonsense

Chapter 1: You Picked _Her_?

First the vase merely teetered on the edge of the table—precarious, yes, but not destined for destruction. Really, the damn piece of glassware shouldn't have fallen at all, but women tended to have these things called hips, and sometimes when she was rushing about her tasks, Valeria forgot to look where hers were swinging. And so there was a bump of the table, a terrified gasp, and the unforgettable sound of shattering glass. A dozen pieces of expensive, white shards spun across the smooth, stone floor, and Valeria was left staring at them with eyes that more resembled a Khajiit caught in torchlight than the Imperial that she was.

"I am dead," she quietly exhaled, hands gripping her broom until her knuckles ached from the strain. She could see her reflection in the largest glass shard, which lay by her feet, and staring at her own widened, brown eyes, she wondered if she wasn't about to collect yet another scar. She'd only been whipped once, and quite frankly, once was enough.

"What have you done this time, you little chit?" She tensed at the approaching voice, her body automatically moving away from the doorway as an older dunmer entered the room. His arms were folded across the front of his red tunic, and his sleek, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail to fully revealed his purple skin and irritated, red eyes. Any moment now, he would stroke his goatee in frustration, and Valeria wasn't disappointed in her assumption. She personally thought that the goatee looked a bit ridiculous, but she wasn't about to tell that to her overseer.

"Girl," the man sighed, sounding totally exasperated. "That's the second thing that you've broken this week. I recommended you for this position. Don't make me look bad."

"I'm sorry," she honestly apologized. "I'm just so nervous."

"I don't want to hear your excuses, and neither does the master. Now clean this mess up before he comes home. He hasn't even met you yet. Don't make a bad impression, or it's back to hard labor for your pale ass."

"Yes, sir, Master Nelos" Valeria humbly replied, keeping her head bowed in apology.

"I don't want to see your face for the rest of the day, either." She held her breath as she waited for the man to leave, wondering how she'd survived here for so long, and wistfully wondering what her life would be like if her father hadn't made that foolish bet with Balver Dren. She'd probably have her own bedroom, and get fresh milk for breakfast, and be able to walk with her head held high, but that was just a fantasy. The fact was that her father had been foolish, foolish and poor, and he'd bartered with the only thing that Dren had shown interest in, or so the story went. Valeria could no longer remember the details quite so clearly, for she'd been very young when that had happened, but she'd been told that Dren had accepted the bet as a joke. _She'd_ been a joke, because wasn't the thought of an Imperial slave amusing?

Broom in hand, Valeria began sweeping the vase into her dustbin, knowing that she needed to be more careful if she wanted to keep her new position. She was fairly young for being entrusted with tending to the young master, for she was barely eighteen, which was the same exact age that Orvas Dren himself was, but they told her that she was a pleasing slave both in appearance and deference, and that made all the difference. It didn't matter to her so long as she wasn't out in the sun all day or left with the other slaves. After all, the owners and dark elves weren't the only ones to find her slave status amusing, for even the Argonians sometimes laughed at her, or at least that nasty one with the red stripe on his forehead. Valeria didn't like to dignify the creature with a name.

"He'll rub this in my face, if I lose my new job," she whispered to herself with downcast eyes, the motions of her broom momentarily ceasing. It seemed like she inadvertently broke something no matter where she worked, but it wasn't really her fault. She was usually very efficient, but when people were watching her, she became nervous, and when she was nervous...well, she stared at the swept up shards and sighed. Vivic help her, but she felt like a total idiot sometimes.

"He's finally here," she heard a voice softly whisper from the corridor, and Valeria recognized the voice of Dren's youngest daughter. The girl was younger than her at fourteen, and it sounded like the girl was speaking with the eldest sister, who would soon be married and move to her husband's home. "He took long enough. Mother's been waiting all day to see him."

"You know how Orvas is," the other one spoke, sounding amused. "He takes his time, and he hates being bossed around. I'm surprised that father got him to return from his travels so soon. It's only been six years." Had it been six whole years? Valeria finished cleaning the glass and moved to the window, using her high vantage point to watch the young master, his father, and the overseer approach the villa. She could see that Orvas had lost that lazy stride of his childhood, for now he looked like a miniature version of his father as his walked, his strides all purposeful and self-assured. Well, he'd always been self-assured, but his back was straighter than before, and his posture more commanding. The rest, from the near black hair combed back over his head, to the slightly pointed ears, and the sharp planes of his purple-grey face appeared to be the same. In fact, Valeria would have known him anywhere.

"He achieved top marks in his schooling," one of the sisters was saying.

"Of course he did! Orvas hates being second-best. Although," and Valeria had to strain to eavesdrop as the voices dropped to a more secretive level, "Mother was quite concerned with his affinity for rough-housing for a while. Don't mention it to him, but Orvas almost landed himself in prison in Ebonheart for challenging someone to a duel on the streets. Vedam had to bail him out of it, and you can imagine how much that annoyed Orvas." So he was just as headstrong as before then too.

"Come. Let's go greet our dear brother. He'll be ready to lead the plantation soon."

"Lead?" the younger sister asked. "Won't Vedam get it? He's the eldest."

"Yes, but Vedam is too busy cultivating his political career to care for a plantation. Father isn't pleased with his love for the city either, but Vedam doesn't care a wit for father's temper. I doubt that he'll come back. Honestly, I think that the old man's secretly proud of Vedam's promising career, but don't mention that to..." Their voices trailed off, and Valeria was left on her own. She merely stayed where she was, her brown skirt brushing her ankles as she leaned against the windowsill.

She wondered if Orvas would recognize her at all, or if he'd completely forgotten her during his exciting life abroad. She tried not to think about it, or at least not get her hopes up, because someone always stepped on her hopes whenever she let them grow too large. She would simply have to content herself with her new position, and be on her best behavior unless she wanted to go back to the fields, the thought of which made her nervous again. Telling her jittery nerves to calm themselves to no effect, she sighed and began hustling toward the young master's bedroom. This was his first day back, and if there was so much as a speck of dirt in that room, her hide was on the line.

Bustling to and fro, she almost didn't hear the whistle when it blew, causing her to crane her neck toward the doorway and wait to see if it happened again. Sometimes the slaves were called by the overseer, who usually used a loud whistle to do the job, but it wasn't time to eat, and it certainly wasn't time for bed. Maybe she hadn't heard anything at all. Oh well. She returned to remaking Orvas's bed for the third time, and was finishing tucking the edges in when the shrill noise sounded yet again.

"Oh no!" Valeria yelped, having clearly heard the whistle this time. How many times had it been blown already? She rushed from the room, scrambling through the villa's tan, clay halls, and bursting from the closest door as if her life depended on it. Oh, she was in so much trouble if she was late, and judging by the line of slaves ahead of her, she was most certainly the last person to arrive.

XxxxxxxxxXXXXXXXXXXxxxxx

"Molag's balls. For all that is blessed in this world..."

Orvas Dren heard the overseer muttering beneath his breath, and he could see the slaves casting knowing looks amongst themselves, but he failed to see the cause of the commotion. In fact, he was rather annoyed that the slaves so easily lapsed out of their attentive stances. They stood there in the high afternoon sunlight, their bare feet sometimes shifting against the cobble-stoned walkway that separated the villa and guardhouse from the farm, and made muffled comments while watching the overseer's souring mood. Such lax behavior shouldn't have been tolerated, but Orvas could tell that the overseer and even his father were highly annoyed about something.

"I'm not surprised," his father, Balver Dren, dryly commented. Orvas was still lost as he surveyed the villa that rose behind the slaves. Built in the traditional style and manner of the Ascadian Isles, its smooth, clay walls rose to form two main levels, with gracefully slopped additions extending from either side of the rectangular construction. On the right side, there was a large, outdoor staircase that swept up towards the second floor and an outdoor sitting area, and beyond that, behind the house, was a small, grassy enclosure where he'd played as child. The entire structure looked exactly as it always had, as did the equally large guardhouse to its right, and the smaller shipping house to the left, and in the background, he heard the soft, lulling motions of river that led south to Lake Hairan and Vivec. It was there, beyond the two large oaks that grew between the villa and the shipping house, and down the slope that ran to the water's edge.

_Everything looks the same_, Orvas thought, and yet, this place held more promise than it ever had before. Yes, perhaps he'd shown no interest in the family business before, but he was a bit older now, and quite frankly, he was tired of playing games. He was already eighteen, and besides his father's reputation, he had no credit to his name, whereas Vedam was already known throughout Ebonheart and Vivec. That had become all too apparent when he'd briefly stayed with his elder sibling throughout the years, and he couldn't emphasize the 'briefly' enough. Now, standing on stones worn smooth by a million footsteps, he could see the value of the massive netch that lazily drifted through the air above the large field behind the shipping house, whereas he'd once only called them dumb hunks of jelly.

"Line up!" Nelos, the reigning overseer shouted, clearly impatient, and then Orvas saw her. There, nearly tripping on her long skirt, and running to join the orderly display of slaves, was an Imperial. The young woman's black hair was pulled into a bun that left somewhat familiar features open to his discernment, from the slightly rounded nose, to the brown eyes, to the smooth curves of her face and even the slightly embarrassed flush that was spreading across her cheeks. She skidded to the end of the line, and stood there trying to catch her breath as the overseer sent a glare in her direction, which made the woman lower her eyes, but not before she'd sent him a quick glance.

There was only one person that she could be, and yet, Orvas found himself staring, wondering if he was correct in his assumption. She could certainly pass for an older version of his childhood companion, but this wasn't a child anymore. Then again, neither was he, and six years was a long time to forget the familiarities of someone's face, especially when one was too busy to even bother trying to recall said face. Perhaps the young woman kept glancing at him, however hurriedly, because she was also wondering about the changes in him.

_Valeria. _And she _was_ a woman now, wasn't she? Orvas could see that her body had filled out with curves, even if her cream-colored blouse was a little loose, and even if the skirt did its utter best to conceal her figure. He observed all of this rather dispassionately, as if he were comparing shoots to a full-grown plant, and as the overseer counted the slaves, he decided that it wouldn't do to be seen looking at a slave for too long anyway, even if she did stand out amongst a cluster of Argonians and Khajiits.

It was actually rather difficult not to stare at her because of that, and she was an _Imperial_ slave on top of that—a fact that Orvas only now appreciated, after having lived away from the plantation. That made her a curiosity of sorts (an illegal curiosity), and he wondered why his father had never been called out for keeping the girl as chattel. Then again, it was very unlikely that anyone on the outside actually knew of the girl's existence, for even the plantation's Imperial netch-breeder, who might be expected to have some sympathy for his countrywoman, cared too much about his good standing to snitch. And so, there stood an adult Valeria, looking very much like the slave that she'd always been.

"We've acquired quite a few new additions since you were last here," his father was saying. "Some of the older, weaker ones were sold, although we didn't make a profit on several of them. Apparently, your mother decided that it would be a good idea to grant several of her childhood slaves their freedom." And the man didn't sound very pleased about that, his baritone voice dropping lower in annoyance. "Those ones were of no use anyway, and we _did_ keep the children. I daresay that your mother was...in one of her moods, but she only let three go."

"You mentioned it in a letter," Orvas commented. The man had been so upset over the incident that he'd almost destroyed the letter with his wild ink strokes, and Orvas could sympathize with his father's irritation. Sometimes his mother was a bit stubborn, but she never did anything to his father's face. No, she was the perfect, stalwart and submissive wife most of the time, and always in public, but she had moments where she could be quite underhanded. More than once in reading their separate letters, he'd wondered if the house was being ripped apart in his absence, but the two had probably kept up the perfect appearance. It was fortunate for everyone involved that she and his father agreed on almost everything.

"Nelos will teach you how to handle the slaves," his father continued, indicating the overseer.

"That I will, and I look forward to showing you the ropes," the other dunmer briefly bowed. "It's quite simple if you use a firm hand." Orvas glanced at the short sword strapped to the man's waist, and wondered if it ever saw use. He was quite handy with a sword himself, and although grudgingly, he had to admit that his brother had helped him quite a bit in that regard.

"That won't be a problem," Orvas easily replied, making his father smile. "I'm a quick study."

"I'm pleased that you're finally ready to step up to your responsibilities," Balver proudly stated. "Once you've proven your proficiency, perhaps you will be ready to accompany me to House Hlaalu meetings. Those politicians are always looking for funds in return for favors."

"I would be honored, father," and indeed he was, for as much as Orvas was interested in economics and making a name for himself, politics drew his eye like nothing else could. Oh, he'd seen the politicians in Vivic and even Mournhold. He'd seen them conducting business, and seen their different interests playing against each other, whether they were Imperials or Dunmer, and he had no interest in living among them, especially since the Imperials ruled what was rightfully the dunmer people's land. No, he didn't think that politics would make a wise career for him, but that didn't mean that he wasn't interested in having a hand in important decisions that would affect the entire Province. He'd grown to understand just how much political sway a man with economic might could wield.

"These are all of the slaves?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Nelos replied. "The ones on the right are field hands, and the ones over there are for the household."

"And have you selected the one that will be waiting on my son?" Balver asked.

"But of course," Nelos nodded, turning to bark an order. "Valeria!" Orvas watched as the said slave hurried forward, the woman keeping her eyes diverted as she stood with her hands clasped before her. He could now see that her hair was in fact braided, but twirled into a bun of silky black, which was not a trait usually found among the dunmer. His own hair was difficult to tame, even if it was soft, but he had seen many Imperials with abnormally sleek hair, which he attributed to their habit of combing light oil into their scalps. He'd been annoyed to see some dunmer copying the practice in Ebonheart, where Imperial guards were literally everywhere.

"You chose _her_?" his father asked, incredulous. If anything, the female slave seemed to blush even more, her entire pale face turning red in a most ridiculous fashion.

"Her temperament is perfect," the overseer defended himself, although keeping his voice respectfully polite. "She naturally likes to please people, and she is easy on the eyes, is she not?"

"For an Imperial perhaps." And his father lifted the girl's chin to better examine her face.

"I thought her a better choice than either a lizard or a cat, and she is capable," the overseer continued. "She is also quite loyal. I do believe that she even saved Orvas's life on one occasion."

Orvas sneered at that, put off by the thought that he owed his life to a slave. He could still remember the wild, disorientating swirl of bubbles and water around him, and the dizzying pain of having hit his head on a rock. Then those pale hands had been pulling him from the water, and perhaps he'd been grateful at the time, but looking at the overseer, damn did it sting to be reminded of that pathetic mistake.

"I don't want to hear that incident mentioned ever again," he ordered, his commanding voice drawing his father's cool gaze, as well as a slight frown.

"Yes, that was an unfortunate incident," the older man seriously commented. "But we all know that you would have gotten yourself out of it without help. The little chit here overreacted." And Orvas knew that his father honestly believed that, but he also knew how false the man's claim was. "Very well, Nelos. I suppose that she'll do, even if she does have a habit of messing things up. Well, son? What do you think?"

Orvas was busy studying the young woman's profile, or what he could see of it since she'd again lowered her face. Her thumbs were nervously rubbing against one another atop her clenched hands, but at least the blush was gone. Her cheeks were again a pale cream, which had surprisingly been left untanned from working in the fields. Maybe she'd been stationed in the house for some time. Her constitution didn't seem particularly suited to working in the fields anyway, and he wondered if she'd ever been in the fields at all. She certainly hadn't been forced out there when the two of them had been younger, but some of that had probably been on his account.

"As long as she's capable, I don't care what race she is," he finally decided. "Although why I need a personal slave in the first place is beyond me."

"Consider it a learning experience," Balver explained, talking as if the girl weren't even present. "If you can learn to handle one slave, you'll be able to handle more. There's a balance of reward and punishment that you need to understand on a small scale before you can apply it to a group, and a mistake on a plantation this size could be costly or even deadly. Remember that, and show me that you're up to the task." Orvas silently nodded, accepting his father's wisdom, and still staring at the young woman who appeared to not hear a single word said around her.

"I won't disappoint you, father."

"It's settled than," the overseer confirmed. "Say hello to your new master, girl."

"Hello," she softly spoke, trying to smile around her unease, but it came off as more of a grimace. "It's nice to see you again, Master Dren."

"See?" the overseer nodded. "She's quite pleasant. You must be happy to see Orvas after so many years, huh?" The girl meekly nodded, and then the overseer turning toward Orvas: "She's grown a lot since you were both children, sir. Don't discount her skills as a servant just because she was a frisky girl when you last saw her. I've already spoken to her, and she knows that you're her new master and must be shown the proper respect, so you needn't worry about her behaving like she once did. You're quite the obedient and submissive woman now, aren't you, my dear girl?"

"I'll do my best," she agreed.

"Wonderful. Are you finished inspecting our stock, sir? This lot has to bring the netch in from the outer fields before long."

"Send them back to work," Balver consented. "And now, Orvas, perhaps you'd like to pay your mother an overdue visit. Girl, take your master's belongings to his room, and see that you don't drop anything." There was a harsh warning in his voice that the overseer's stern expression echoed, but Orvas paid them little attention as he began striding toward the house, the slave girl hurrying behind him with two large bags that nearly squashed her lithe frame. She could handle it though, or she'd better given the warnings. He could hear her shuffling about, and he heard the overseer commanding other household slaves to carry the larger trunks that had returned with him, for Valeria could not possibly be saddled with that or he'd be waiting for his luggage for eternity.

"Girl," he addressed her, deciding that using her name would give her the wrong impression.

"Yes, sir?" she called, her voice muffled from behind one of the bags.

"There is a small, decorated box in the larger bag. I will be with my mother in the family sitting room. Bring it too me as soon as you can."

"Yes, sir," she obediently answered, and then she was forgotten as Orvas entered a back room and was politely greeted by his mother. He could tell that she wanted to hug him, but rushing into each other's arms was simply not done among their rigidly formal family, and so he offered her a respectful bow of his head, and she stood to greet him. Perhaps she didn't embrace him, and he wasn't a child anymore to need to be embarrassed like that, but he could tell that she was overjoyed to see him. The happiness was reflected in her smiling eyes. That was what mattered, and that was what would need to be enough.

XXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxxXXXXXXxxxx

He wasn't happy to see her. That was Valeria's first thought as she set Orvas's bags on the floor of his room. He had even looked downright disgusted when the oversee had mentioned what she'd once done for the young man. That had been years ago, and she was only a slave, but still, she thought that maybe her actions would carry some gratitude. The mother had always been nicer to her because of it, even excusing her for the time that she'd dropped a breakfast tray on her ladyship's foot. Oh, that had made the overseer see red, but she hadn't been whipped for it, only assigned to less pleasant duties until she could learn to balance a tray properly. It wasn't her fault that she didn't have good balance though, or rather, she had decent balance, but her legs went all akimbo whenever the father was around. He didn't like her at all, unless he was making fun of her, and he was incredibly stern most of the time.

"Where is that box?" she asked herself, carefully searching through one of the bags. It didn't take long to find, and soon she was holding a beautiful piece of woodwork unlike anything that she'd ever seen. Everyone would be so furious if she broke it, and so she gently cradled it as she walked back downstairs, knowing that Orvas was waiting for her. It was rare for her to be given such an obviously important task, for she was often shunned during important events or when company came over. No one wanted the idiot slave around when the family was trying to impress, or so the overseer said. That made her a bit angry, because she had never thought of herself as an idiot, just a bit uncoordinated on occasion.

Nearing the family room, she let the emotion go, knowing that no good would come of it. She should not have expected anything more than dismissal from Orvas, and hadn't she known that he would take after his father eventually? Children didn't know or particularly care about social differences when they were playing, but the distinctions grew all too prominent when one became an adult. She'd seen it with the mother, who cared for the slaves who'd once played with her, but who didn't give them any special treatment or equality. It just wasn't done, and after watching harsh, corporal punishment throughout the years, Valeria had come to accept that the world simply wasn't fair. In fact, it was often downright painful.

"I brought a gift for you, mother," Orvas was saying, holding out his hand for the box. Valeria set it within his grasp, nervous but managing not to do anything stupid as he took it from her. His voice had gotten much deeper in the past six years, and it seemed to rumble up from his chest with a slightly raspy edge, even if he was very articulate. It seemed that he'd inherited his family's gravelly voice as well as his dashing good looks then, and he _was_ handsome. Valeria had always thought as much, but she'd never say that aloud. People would probably just laugh at her.

"It's beautiful!" the mother happily gushed, and Valeria smiled at the woman's genuine happiness. She didn't realize that she was overstaying her welcome until Orvas sent her a cool stare, and then she scooted away into the backdrop. She would use this time to ensure that everything was perfect, and then perhaps it would be time for lunch. The overseer had emphasized that nothing would change for her with Orvas's return, and truly, it seemed like he was correct. It seemed that life would continue as it always had, and she could be content with that, even if Orvas's blanket coldness toward her did hurt a little.

Okay, maybe 'a little' was a bit of an understatement, but Valeria didn't want to feel hurt. No one had to tell her that things would be different between them after years of being denigrated to a controlled position, but seeing him had made certain fond memories bubble to the surface. Life before and after his departure were vastly different realities, for it had only been after he'd left that she'd truly begun to realize that she was a piece of property. She hadn't ever worked hard before he'd left either, and even if people had talked down to her, she'd been the adorable little girl, but little girls didn't stay cute and oblivious forever.

_"You are to call him Master Dren," the father reprimanded her, and she stared up at him with wide eyes. He was so tall, and so very unfriendly looking at the moment. _

_ "But why, sir?" She looked at Orvas, who was also staring up at his father. "Do you want me to call you that, Orvas?" If he wanted her to, she supposed that she could do that for him. _

_ "I don't care," Orvas answered, fiddling with the ball in his hands. _

_ "Son," Balver frowned. "She isn't showing you respect when she calls you by your first name. You should know better than to allow a slave to talk to you as if..."_

_ "Let them play, dear," the mother called from the next room. "They don't understand what you're trying to say. They'll grow out of it on their own." And Orvas ran off with his ball, calling for Valeria to follow him, but the father was still giving her a dirty look. _

_ "You won't be able to call him by his name for much longer," he warned her. _

And it seemed to Valeria that that time was now.

A/N:

Hello everyone. I want you to know right now that this story won't be updated for a while. I'm still finishing two other fics, and I'm going to complete those two before continuing with this one. I merely wanted to put out some feelers and see if there's interest in reading a story about Orvas Dren and his complicated relationship with a slave. After all, he's such a cruel, nasty character in the actual game, but I'd like to examine some of his younger years, before he actually owned the plantation. Expect the Camonna Tong, drugs, conflict, and complicated emotions to factor into the story. And please review so that I know what kind of interest there is in my continuing of this story once my others are completed.

Thanks!


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